Author: Lester

If we don’t stop squabbling, America, we’re doomed.

Lester

Here’s a summary of the US Senate’s 2nd bipartisan report on Russian interference in our society. If we don’t stop squabbling and get our act together, America, we’re doomed.

Takeaway: Russia spent more than $1.25 million per month prior to the 2016 election, and even more ever since, to make you and me argue about gun rights, kneeling at football games, police, and immigration. As a nation, we fell for it, because we’re too lazy/stupid to check our sources and stop shouting talking points.

Note. Senate. Not the House.

Here’s a summary. Don’t assume it’s an attack on Donald Trump, because that is utterly not the point. Set aside your pride, frustration, or rage and realize that if we can’t talk to each other, Russia wins. That’s the point.

Section 1: Introduction.

In 2016, Russia’s Internet Research Agency masqueraded as Americans online to polarize our opinions, and to promote their favored candidate. The Senate took up this topic as part of their mandate to evaluate threats.

Section 2: Findings. (Each sentence summarizes one paragraph by quotation.)

“The IRA sought to influence the 2016 U.S. presidential election by harming Hillary Clinton’s chances of success and supporting Donald Trump at the direction of the Kremlin.

“The Russian government tasked and supported the IRA’ s interference in the 2016 U.S. election.

“Russia’s history of using social media as a lever for online influence operations predates the 2016 U.S. presidential election and involves more than the IRA.

“The preponderance of the operational focus . . . was on socially divisive issues — such as race, immigration, and Second Amendment rights — in an attempt to pit Americans against one another and against their government.

“The IRA targeted not only Hillary Clinton, but also Republican candidates during the presidential primaries.

“No single group of Americans was targeted by IRA information operatives more than African-Americans.

“The nearly 3,400 Facebook and Instagram advertisements the IRA purchased are comparably minor in relation to the over 61,500 Facebook posts, 116,000 Instagram posts, and 10.4 million tweets that were the original creations of IRA influence operatives, disseminated under the guise of authentic user activity. [So ad spending was a drop in the bucket.]

“The IRA coopted unwitting Americans to engage in offline activities . . . not just focused on inciting anger and provoking division on the internet . . . targeted African-Americans over social media to influence [them] to sign petitions, share personal information, and teach self-defense training courses; [and] posing as U.S. political activists . . . requested — and in some cases obtained — assistance from the Trump Campaign in procuring materials for rallies and in promoting and organizing the rallies.

“The IRA was not Russia’s only vector for attempting to influence the United States through social media in 2016.

“IRA activity on social media did not cease, but rather increased after Election Day 2016.

“More than 80% of the disinformation accounts in our election maps are still active … [and] continue to publish more than a million tweets in a typical day.”

https://www.intelligence.senate.gov/…/do…/Report_Volume2.pdf

D13 RPG

Lester

The D13 RPG is designed for deadly horror adventures involving characters throughout time and space,
in a campaign of guardian spirits whose survival depends upon those mortals.

Created by Origins-award-winning designer Lester Smith,
author of the Dark Conspiracy and D6xD6 RPGs, the game is now in development.

To learn more visit the Limited Edition Kickstarter page,
and join our mailing list for ongoing news, including a future unlimited edition.



D13 RPG Dice & Cards Randomizer

Lester


 
       

     
     


 

The Death of Dobie

Lester


The night before, he staggered to the back of the house, the back bathroom, to lie down on a towel to die. I spent the night on a sleeping bag next to him, dozing, waking to feel if he was still breathing, my hand on his side or in front of his nose.

At daybreak he woke, and I carried him to my recliner, held him in my arms while we slept a few hours. Then he got up, heaved, and staggered back to the towel.

It was Sunday. We tried to keep him going with subcutaneous fluids every two hours, hoping to get him to the vet Monday morning for appetite enhancers to regain his strength. The fluids perked him up each time, but by afternoon I knew it was cruel to bring him back for two hours at a time.

So I held him, weeping, while convincing the family we had to let him go.

The vet had an hour to drive to his office. We were only half that distance away, so we had to wait a half hour before leaving home.

It was a miserable 30 minutes. As his kidneys shut down, he heaved again and again, and I cleaned him up each time. I gave him an injection of muscle relaxer, and then Jennifer drove, while I held him in that towel, and Kate cried in the back seat.

An IV injection. He was gone instantly.

Jen drove back, and I carried him to my study, to prepare for burial. But I could not put him down. The feel of his fur. The softness of his ears. The familiar scent when I buried my nose in the scruff between his shoulders.

Christine brought over a wooden box with hinges, a latch, and bright colors all over. I laid him in, fur wet with tears, on the towel with his favorite stuffed toy, ragged from years of play, and covered him with the tattered Spider-Man blanket he always lay on in my lap. His collar went atop, with one each of the two treats he loved.

Then I went out to dig a hole in the front yard.

I’m 63. The temperature was 89. Christopher allowed me to dig the first foot of hard, dry Nebraska clay, then he let me help him finish it. I lowered the box in, Jen & Kate said their goodbyes and crumbled a clod each, then I shoveled the rest and reset the sod.

Next month we’ll plant a red maple nearby.

Today I went out to sit by the grave with a shot of tequila and tell him thanks for unflaggingly caring for this family, for choosing me as a four-week-old puppy (another story), for having a few annoying habits so I wouldn’t feel like I couldn’t measure up, and for trusting me so utterly.

My grief has shifted a bit, from what I’ve lost, to the grace of letting him go as my final act of love.

That’s the best I can do for now.

Thanks for listening.